


First Signs of Spring

by surlybobbies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4839068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surlybobbies/pseuds/surlybobbies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had never been interested in soccer.  That is, until his niece begins playing in a youth soccer league.  It also doesn't hurt that he falls in love with her coach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Signs of Spring

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge soccer fan, though I have to admit that I'm not too familiar with how youth leagues work. I did a little research (read: a very very small amount,) but there may still be errors with my information. However, the gist remains the same: deancas.
> 
> Enjoy this pure 100 proof fluff.

Growing up, Dean had never cared for soccer. His interest in sports had only ever extended to football, mostly, though his father’s habits kept him from ever trying out for the team despite the football coach’s yearly passionate pleas. 

Nope - Dean was strictly all-American in his sports taste - none of that floofy European futbol crap that Sam became obsessed with in his sophomore year. 

That all changed one day, years and years after high school, when Dean’s six-year-old niece turned her big brown eyes on him and in her best big-girl voice politely asked him to come to her first U-8 soccer game, _please, Uncle Dean, I need you there._

And that was all it took. Dean was sold. 

He took her shopping for her first pair of cleats, despite not knowing what exactly cleats were. Then, when Sam’s practice really began picking up, Dean became to go-to driver for little Mary Ellen and the rest of her soccer friends. He found himself leaving work early twice a week to make his rounds, picking up Sarah and Jessica and Tomoko and Frederica in Sam’s minivan and gently turning down whichever soccer mom decided to try and get their claws into him that week. 

And despite his misgivings about the sport years prior, he really began to enjoy watching his niece play soccer and run the opposing team into the ground. She was fierce - maybe too fierce for a U-8 league - and, in Dean’s humble opinion, the best damn striker the small team of young girls had ever seen.

He shared this opinion one day with Mary Ellen’s coach after a particularly grueling game in which Mary Ellen had assisted two goals and scored three.

Cas Novak stifled a chuckle and sent Dean a teasingly reproachful look. “She is very good, Dean, but you know I can’t agree with what you said. The other moms would kill me.”

Dean glared. “The ‘other’ moms? For the last time, Cas, I am not a ‘mom.'”

Cas shrugged, draining a bottle of Gatorade before saying, “The minivan says otherwise.” 

“The minivan is borrowed!” Dean cried out indignantly, though his eyes followed the sweep of Cas’s hand across his wet lips.

“You’ve been ‘borrowing’ the minivan from Sam for the past two years, Dean; you drive it to work. Just admit that the minivan is yours.”

Dean shoved a hand into Cas’s shoulder - just lightly and quickly enough so that if anyone saw, they’d take it as a platonic gesture. “You know very well I’ve got a badass ‘67 Impala.”

Cas’s gaze was steady, but there was something sad in the way his eyelashes fluttered once, twice. Quieter, he said, “And you know very well I’ve never seen it.”

Dean swallowed, aware all of a sudden that they were no longer joking around. Dean and Cas were close friends by now - over the years they’d swapped stories and secrets in the minutes after Mary Ellen’s games, and they had developed a quick bond. If Dean were being honest, he’d say that Cas probably knew more about him than anybody else, barring Sam.

But they never saw each other outside of the community soccer field.

He looked down at the ground, where the girls’ bags were gathered around his feet. Any minute now, they’d come running to him from the locker rooms and his time alone with Cas would be over. 

If he was going to do something, now was the time.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. Mary Ellen was the priority here, and if anything happened between him and Cas, the other girls’ moms would start a riot. Mary Ellen with all of her talent was already looked at with disdain by some of the other moms; it would turn ugly if her uncle started dating her coach. They’d call it a conflict of interest and try to get her kicked out.

Dean knew this. So did Cas. They’d been dancing around each other for the better part of two years because of it.

Dean was saved from answering by the excited shriek of Mary Ellen. “Uncle Dean, did you see when I nutmegged Casey Stewart?!” She barrelled into his middle, wrapping her arms around him. Her brown eyes lifted to Cas. “Coach, did I do good?”

Cas’s smile was indulgent and proud when he answered in the affirmative. Dean smoothed down Mary Ellen’s hair and avoided Cas’s eyes, even when he packed up the minivan - _not_ his - and waved goodbye.

 

Dean swung by Sam’s place one Sunday, months later. The season had just ended, and Mary Ellen’s team had once again finished top of the league. Dean had been looking forward to a nice, big celebratory dinner to distract him from the sad eyes Cas had been making at him all throughout the post-season snack party, but he walked into the front door and the lack of a smiling Mary Ellen from his welcoming party changed all that.

“Where’s the kiddo?” he asked Jess, who was 8 months pregnant and supporting her back with a hand.

Sam’s wife grimaced. “She’s upstairs crying.”

Immediately Dean’s blood began to boil. “Was it that harpy Mrs. Stewart again? I swear I’ll slash her tires the next time she comes into the shop - “

Jess placed a calming hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It was Mrs. Stewart, but amazingly she wasn’t _trying_ to upset Mary. Though, come to think of it, she did seem very happy to tell Mary that she couldn’t play in the same division next season.”

Dean blinked, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean? She played so well all season! They can’t kick her out!”

Jess’s eyes were sad. “She’s not being kicked out - it’s her age, Dean. She’ll be bumped up to the under-10s in February.”

Dean deflated, suddenly realizing the reason for Cas’s sad blue eyes earlier that week. “Oh.”

Something in Dean’s expression made Jess sigh. “Mary Ellen won’t be the only one missing Coach, I’m thinking.”

Dean closed his eyes; he suddenly didn’t have the energy to deny it. When Jess’s arms wrapped around his middle, he just sighed into the embrace and pressed a kiss to his sister-in-law’s hair. 

“Is Sammy up there with Mary Ellen?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then.” Dean pulled away and attempted a smile. “I hope there’s still alcohol in your fridge even though you can’t drink it.”

Jess patted his cheek. “I may not be able to drink it, but I can still pour it for you.” 

“Please,” Dean said tiredly, and followed his brother’s wife into the kitchen.

 

Mary Ellen got over it, like all well-adjusted 8-year-olds tended to do. She knew she would see Cas often, though he would no longer be her coach, and whatever sting was left was lessened by the fact that all four of her carpool friends would be joining her in the new age division.

Dean, however, was less resilient - the outcome of being 34 and far too familiar with loneliness - and despite the addition of one little Bobby Winchester to Dean’s little family in December, the winter that came without one sighting of Cas still felt colder than usual whenever he returned to an empty house.

Finally, February came, and with it, the first of Cas’s games of the new season. Mary Ellen had already played in and won her first game, and Dean had sat and cheered her on as he always had - but Dean had other plans for the new season, and those plans entailed driving back up to the soccer field the day after Mary Ellen’s U-10 game to see Cas.

He arrived just as the second half was winding down and sat in the bleachers to wait out the rest of the game. From what he could gather from the parents seated near him, Cas’s team was down 2 goals and one of his girls had twisted an ankle early on in the first half. Dean could see the frown on Cas’s face even from the opposite side of the field. 

Despite that, it was still good to see him, and Dean spent the rest of the game watching the coach rather than the game.

The game eventually ended with the same scoreline. It wasn’t often that Cas’s team lost, and Dean found himself hanging back from the crowd, hesitant to approach the man he hadn’t seen in three months. Would his appearance only make things worse?

He ended up waiting for an hour after the game ended - long after the players and their parents had left and even longer after Cas had entered the small office near the changing rooms.

Dean was about to admit that he was a coward and go home - because no way was he going to knock on that door - when Cas exited the office, looking tired. He had a gym bag slung over one shoulder and watched the ground as he walked to his car.

Swallowing his nerves, Dean moved into Cas’s trajectory. When Cas caught sight of his shoes, he stopped abruptly. His eyes grew wide when he looked up and saw who it was. “Dean,” he said, clearly surprised. “Are you here for Mary Ellen? She’s not in my team anymore.”

Dean tried his best to grin despite the minute trembling in his hands. “Nah,” he said, quiet, “I’m not here for Mary Ellen.”

Shifting his bag from one shoulder to the other, Cas asked, softly, almost hopefully, “Then… for me?”

“Wanted to see how you were doing,” Dean said casually, taking the tiniest of steps forward. “And uh, gotta say, Cas - you didn’t look too happy out there.”

Cas looked down at the ground. “You’re right. It wasn’t the best game, and… well, I have to admit I haven’t been the cheeriest of coaches lately. I think my poor mood has been rubbing off on the girls.”

“Is there a particular reason for your ‘poor mood’?”

Cas closed his eyes briefly, a frown marring his lips, then looked up fiercely, eyes wide and almost pleading. “Tell me why you’re here, Dean. Really.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then said into the air between them, “It’s been two, almost three years, and Mary Ellen is no longer my player. Can we be honest with each other?”

Dean licked his lips, then took a steadying breath. “Yeah, Cas. Okay.” He lifted a hand and tentatively fit it to Cas’s neck. “This,” he murmured, eyes bright as they bored into Cas’s. “You. I’m here for you.” He pulled gently, and Cas leaned in with a soft intake of breath, tilting his head and slowly, _finally_ pressing his lips to Dean’s.

He tasted like Gatorade, but even better, his lips were warm against his - the first sign of spring after a very long winter. When Dean drew back, Cas kept his eyes closed. He smiled.

“I think my mood is improving,” he said, then more solemnly, “I missed you these past few months.”

Dean let his forehead fall to Cas’s shoulder, sure his face was red. “I missed you, too,” he said. He brought a hand around Cas’s waist. “Two years was a goddamn long time to wait for this. I’m never letting you go.”

Cas’s amused huff ruffled Dean’s hair. “I think Mary Ellen would be jealous of me.”

Dean shakes his head, smiling into Cas’s collarbone. “That little girl loves you. I think she’d be jealous of me for keeping you to myself.”

“I guess we’ll both have to make time for Mary Ellen in the future.”

“Are we already planning our future?” Dean asked, lifting his head. 

“You said it yourself, Dean - two years was a long time. I intend to at least keep you around for two years to make up for it.” Cas’s smile was teasing, but Dean could hear a promise laid in those words.

So Dean kissed him again, long and indulgent, an agreement, before saying, “Deal. Now, I believe I have someone to introduce you to.”

“Bobby?”

“Nah, tomorrow maybe. This is someone you’ve been wanting to meet for ages, even before Bobby was born.”

Cas’s eyes turned bright. “The Impala?”

Dean grinned as he pointed to a sleek black car in the far corner of the parking lot. He began an introduction that in a perfect world would have taken place years before. “Cas, meet Baby.”


End file.
